


Her Favorite Song

by PineTrain



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain





	Her Favorite Song

Mabel hates this song.

Because she wrote it. The words. The notes. The tempo. All hers.

As her hands move about, she tries to hum her favorite song, but it's a futile effort. The tinny recording squeaking from the burner phone she bought out of a pawnshop is affecting her mood more powerfully than something that's always made her happy. Everything about the way it plays should prevent that, yet it does anyways. That was supposed to be why she bought the crappiest phone she could.

Mabel has to hum it, the same way the phone has to play it while she decorates this cake. It's a love song, now hated by her, yet her former favorite, all a matter of how she hears it. This is the first time she hasn't heard it from herself; every other time she's sung straight from her mouth to her ears, but now there's another source. The hate is very new, but she's tried to fight that.

He asked her to record it, and she had assumed a different reason why. Mabel feels stupid now. Used, maybe, but she doesn't like how that word accuses him. He understood the words, but not in the way she wanted. Not in the way she wanted until he could see them referring to a different girl.

But it'd make him happy if she sang them to a microphone. Sang them so he could express his feelings to another woman. A song he's always loved without loving the way it was meant to be. She can't blame him for that. She never said anything to change his mind. Never said anything that would make him realize this isn't the simple request he thinks it is.

Maybe if she'd done that, there wouldn't be a recording. Maybe he'd ask her to sing it to him and not a microphone. Maybe this cake she made for a family dinner wouldn't contain a ring meant for another woman. Maybe she wouldn't regret that she'd written a song she used to love. 

Mabel listens to the tinny squeaks that mutilate her song and smiles bitterly as they mimic her feelings.


End file.
